He tells me to count my pulse while he counts his
As we lay in different beds
Together connected by a series of word
Plastered on a glass screen.

We are having one of those fights where we are questioning how we plan on making this long distance work.
He tells me his heart beats 72 times a minute – a standard we found on the internet
And I tell him mine’s the same.
But no,
his heart’s beating faster right now because of the onset of the anxiety attack he might have.
And I think my hearts slowing down because I don’t feel a god forsaken thing.
He says, even the distance can’t change the fact that our heart beats together
And I tell him we see the same stars every night
Finding condolence where we could.

He tells me he doesn’t remember what it feels like to hold me,
nor do I remember what he tastes like
I describe him in my poems as Sunday mornings
Because I don’t know what they mean to me.
Sometimes he is a fantasy I dream of on Mondays,
A reality dose of pending work on Saturdays
And in between, nostalgia filled weekdays, of longing.

He carries silences in the fists of his hands
And he never lets me see the bruised knuckles that he gets
While punching walls in frustration over my lack of person
He marks X every day in his calendar till he reaches the date where I marked a heart
The day when I will be next to him.

Some days I miss his call and there are two more in place of one.
I know insecurity must have gnawed his heart out.
He whispers I miss you as apologies. And I tell him I love him even if he knows it.
We need it most times.
But when things really get ugly and he tells me he has to leave me or I tell him I can’t take it. And his beats are over 120 I can guess and mine are over 120 too, I tell him we’ll be okay.
We’ll be okay.
We have to be okay.
We’ll be okay.
Our heart beats together as one. And we can see the same stars.
And we realize why we are here- only because we miss each other too much.
Would we ever give us up for the sake of moments without this pain?
No. Pain is temporary. Us is forever.
I don’t know where this takes us.
One soul, two hearts that beats 72 times a minute and stay miles apart.
He counts my sighs on the phone conversation and tells me “Soon.”
For every one of them. And for those moments I believe it.

Some days our conversation are not about what I did for the day or how I spent my night. We hardly get past I miss you and I miss you too’s. And I wish it was different. But this is what consists of distance.

But days drag on more than usual.
I don’t mark calendars like he does. I make tally marks on the wall instead as he has forbidden me to do them on my skin. And some days I tell him he isn’t here to stop me. .
He tells me he is just a call away.
And if I need him, he will walk the miles if he didn’t find any other way to stop me. And I believe him. And he sings songs for me till I fall asleep.

He asks me how much do I weigh. And I tell him 92 pounds. 2 pounds extra – 1 for my baggage and 1 for the weight of missing him. I ask him how long is his hair and he tells me the exact length because he knows I can’t feel it between my fingertips.
And he tells me to go visit the place where we first met. And I stand in the library holding his favorite book reading along with him on my phone. He tells me we can still read together and it is a blessing.

When people ask us how we manage?
I tell them we play hide and seek – he hides for a year till I seek him in the next summer.
He is worth it.
The relationship is worth it.
I do not take for granted each moment that I have with him. When I hold his hand- the smallest of gesture I know what that means. When I kiss him- I don’t do it out of habit. When I hold him – I know why he marks those calendars and why my bedroom wall is filled with tally marks.
Some days I take care of us, some days he has to, because long distance’s hard. But when I say I miss you, I mean it every single damn time.

And there are couples, who were together and now are not,
And then there are some, who have more distance between them,
than the miles we share.
Then how can I let only the physical entity defy the connection I have with a soul who was made from the same stars that I was?
Telling him I love you in person is heaven.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
It becomes a necessity. Like breathing.
When I am with him every breath out is a ‘I love you’ waiting to happen. And days without him become years that lay forgotten. And days I spent with him become moments worth deceiving Oblivion for.